


Repeated Encounters

by hpdwsg1310



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Brigadoon, F/M, Musicals, SO, Softball, TGWDLM, and wrote the whole thing down, basically the musical, beanies, but then i got carried away, but with a backstory, could be described as the furthest thing from an AU ever, cue 'we don't wanna be sued', hatchetfield, hatchetfield high, oh well, pre-tgwdlm, so like up to chapter 4 ish, sycamore high school, this happened, was gonna just post the backstory part, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-01-31 20:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdwsg1310/pseuds/hpdwsg1310
Summary: A teenage Paul Matthews is forced by his school to watch a musical. While there he meets a girl who is equally annoyed about being there. See how their friendship grows after a few fated encounters.AU until about chapter 5 when it merges with the musical.





	1. Brigadoon

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of when Paul and Emma were talking about their high schools.
> 
> I also posted this on wattpad.

This was the worst thing that could ever happen. Ever.

Paul Matthews and the rest of Sycamore High School were being shepherded over to their rival's school, Hatchetfield High, to watch some shitty production of some done to death musical from the 1950s. The only reason he was going, and probably the only reason any of them were going was that they were threatened with the failure of English and they would all rather die than take English again. The teachers were probably lying because no one would go otherwise, but this is not something that people bother risking. In Paul's personal opinion, all musicals were kinda crappy but this particular one had a special place in his heart. Why Scotland? No one cares about Scotland!

When they got there, just by looking around, you could really tell how much everyone wanted to be there, by the one or two seats filled at the front, and the one or two seats not filled at the back. He swore to himself that he would fight anyone who opposed him in his journey to the seat at the back. I mean, at least everyone else had someone to talk with, to criticise the 'actors' performance. Emphasis on the air quotes. After climbing over at least ten people, he finally got to his seat, and the bored-out-of-his-mind teen settled in for two hours of unending agony.

\---------------

After the correctly predicted two hours of unending agony, the production was finally over, and they could all leave and, to be honest, Paul couldn't get out of there fast enough. What the fuck was that? Before the show, he had seen a description of the show and it sounded bad, but oh my god! The whole thing was the cheesiest thing ever. The amateurish special effects might have been the worst part as well. It was mainly just coloured, vibrant, flashing lights and different fabrics being flown around by cast members, still in their costumes. Who thought that getting people in tartan dress to run around the stage, waving pink, purple, and blue fabric in the air. There is a reason the people of Sycamore didn't like the people of Hatchetfield.

Anyway, once Paul had finally found his way out of the school, he aimed to just go straight home and try to forget about the traumatic event but was intercepted by a girl who looked just as annoyed as he assumed he looked. She noticed him and, for some godforsaken reason, started talking to him.

"Heyyyyyyy"

"What?"

"I just saw you looking as bored as I feel."

"I mean yeah. It wasn't one of the best things I have ever seen."

"I feel the same way. That was the worst. And that's saying something since I was in it." Paul opened his mouth to reply. Whether or not it would have been to apologise, who knows (probably the latter). "Don't bother. I only did it for the extra credit anyway."

"I get what you mean. I only came cause we would have been failed otherwise."

"Wow, your teachers really wanted to torture you, didn't they."

"You have no idea."

"Well, I'll see you around."

"Unlikely."

"Byeeeeee."

Well. That was interesting.


	2. Softball

When will this school stop threatening to fail people if they don't participate! To be fair, they did end up failing some people who didn't have a good enough reason not to be there, so I guess they weren't joking. That was the only reason that, at the end of the school year, Paul once again found himself being blackmailed into attending a school event. For some godforsaken reason, everyone loves softball. 'Join the softball league, Paul.' 'Do it for charity, Paul.' wHy! nO! What is so great about running and sports anyway? In Paul's limited experience, all sports did was tire you out and injure you. No point. No point whatsoever. And, the worst thing of all, Hatchetfield High are here. Ugh. And another thing! So many opportunities for injury. That would never work for him. To try and get away from all the madness, the accident-prone teen decided to just sit and eat for the rest of the game. As he strolled over to the food cart, he spotted a familiar face, unsurprisingly looking like they were heading to the same place he was.

"Hello?"

"What? Oh, heyyyyyyy. It's you! From after that god awful play."

"It's me. And it wasn't that bad"

"Don't bother. Good god man, you really are the most awkward person I have ever met."

"Thank you? So, um, what's your name?"

"Really?"

"I-"

"Nah, I'm kidding man. I'm Emma."

"Ok, I'm Paul."

"Hiya Paul. You hate softball too?"

"Yea."

He then proceeded to launch into a whole explanation of my disdain for the sport, along with the number of injuries you could get from it, the stupidness of having to do it at school, and, probably most unsurprisingly, why did they have to play it against the worst school in the world, with both of them expressing their detest for both their and the other school. To the surprise of the now-friends, what seemed like thousands of people started filing out of the stadium and surrounded them as they escaped the caged hell of high school sports. When he went to look back at Emma, he discovered that she had completely disappeared. He looked all around for her, but it had seemed like she had just vanished into thin air. Well, as this was right towards the end of his torturous time as Sycamore, he figured that he would never see her again.


	3. Just Trying To Get Coffee

"I swear the whole world is against me!"  
  
The one day when he really needed a good cup of coffee, the Starbucks across the street is 'closed for maintenance'. Why? That meant he had to go all the way to Beanie's which is a whole block down and, on top of everything, from what he had heard, it has the shittiest coffee ever. Brilliant. As he trekked down to the dreaded coffee shop, he tried to not look longingly at his beloved Starbucks. He finally got to Beanie's and opened the door. From a glance around, he could tell that whoever had said it was crap, was entirely correct. He quickly went up to the counter, asked for a black coffee, paid, and tried with all of his might to will the barista to hurry up with his coffee so that he could get out of this place as fast as possible. Then, the worst thought ever crossed his mind. He'd probably have to come back here tomorrow, and for the rest of the week, if not more. Why was he cursed this way?  
  
It was the next day, and he was getting emotionally ready to go get the coffee that he almost spat out yesterday. It was a traumatic experience. Also, the barista was just so annoying! Let's hope there is a different one today. As he entered the dreaded coffee shop, approached the counter, and placed his order, the (thankfully) new barista turned around, and immediately he felt a sense of familiarity. She quickly made his coffee, gave it to him, he paid, and he left. As soon as he got out of that door it hit him. It was Brigadoon girl from high school. Small world. Well, not really, seeing as it is Hatchetfield.  
  
He had gotten used to going a different way down to Beanie's for his morning (and sometimes afternoon) dose so that he wouldn't have to face his beloved Starbucks. Throughout the week, he, for some unknown reason, started to antagonise Beanie's less and less. One day, after he was sat back down at my desk after his daily trip for coffee, Ted approached him.  
  
"Hello, Paul."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"So, I see you've been getting your coffee from a different place lately."  
  
"I have, why do you care?"  
  
"Well, Starbucks has opened again."  
  
"Has it?"  
  
"It's been open for weeks." Ah, shit.  
  
"I just don't like giving my money away to some corporate chain."  
  
"Really. Huh. Cause I could swear you spent every waking moment there before it shut for maintenance." Double shit.  
  
"I, uh, I saw a ... a documentary on it."  
  
"Really? Which one? Cause I didn't see anything about a documentary." Whyyyyyy.  
  
"It's an old one. So what? Why all the questions? Why do you care so much? Where I go to get my coffee is none of your business."  
  
"No reason."  
  
After that Ted slowly walked away, and for some reason, every few steps, he turned around and wiggled his eyebrows at him. He's a weird one.


	4. Confrontation

It was your average day at work, and after accidentally insulting his best friend, Paul decided to go down to Beanie's.

"Hey, you going to Beanie's?" Good god, what does he want this time?

"Yeah."

"You didn't invite me."

"Sorry Ted, you wanna come?"

"No no no no no. I don't wanna show you up, yeah." Ted winked at him. What?

"What do you mean?"

"Paul. Come on. I know why you walk that extra block instead of going to Starbucks across the street."

"It's like I said last time. I don't wanna give my money to some corporate chain."

"Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh. You sure it doesn't have anything to do with that cute little barista over there, huh?"

"That's not the reason."

"Yeah, the, uh, 'Latte Hottay'! as she's known throughout the land, right? You know what I'm saying? My wife! Right?" What is happening? "It's like Borat, dude." Who?

"Alright, bye Ted!"

"Hey! Get me a chai iced tea, eh?! EH?!" That was the last Paul heard as he walked away as fast as he could. He honestly had no idea whatever Ted was talking about. Who was this 'Latte Hottay'? Could he be talking about Emma? Who knows? Well, you know, him, but if he could help it, Paul was going to steer clear from Ted as much as he could.


	5. Emma's Day At Beanies

*Emma POV*

I hate my job. It's a shitty paying job, serving coffee to assholes all day. And on top of that, there's this whole singing thing that my boss brought back from some random place she visited. Ugh. Oh look, a new customer. Joy.

"Hi, can I help you?" I could just tell by the look of him that this one was going to be a douche. He didn't even look up from his phone.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, can I get a grande caramel frappe in a venti cup with ten pumps of hazelnut, three shots of espresso, no caramel drizzle, with whip on top?" Yep. Douche.

"Sure, that'll be $5.50."

"Jesus, fine." What? It's not like that seems overpriced with all the extras you added asshat. "Hey!"

"Yeah?"

"I just tipped you." Oh dear.

"Oh, well, thank you."

"Aren't you supposed to sing? The sign says tip for a song." Eff off.

"Yeah, um, that's like a new thing. The owner went to Cold Stone Creamery over the weekend and brought back the whole singing thing but, you know, there's a line, and people are working. I don't wanna disturb anyone." I hoped this would be enough to deter him.

"Haha, I don't care, I just tipped you, come on." It wasn't.

"Okay, well did you do that to be nice or did you do that to be an asshole?"

"Fine! I'll take it back then!" Oh no! So sad!

"Oh no! What am I going to do without that dollar I have to split with five other people?"

"You know what? I'm never coming back here again!" What a big loss that would be! "That sign's bullshit!" Well, I suppose that's one thing we agree on.

"Oh my god! So mean!" I flipped him off. He deserved it.

"Emma, what's the deal over here?" Ah, crap. It's Nora, my boss.

"That guy just flipped out on me for practically no reason!"

"She wouldn't sing for him." Who the hell is this guy? What right does he have to butt into the conversation, or eavesdrop in the first place, for that matter? "And I still haven't gotten my hot chocolate." Crap.

"Oh, sorry, I'll get right on that."

"I have very low blood sugar." Great.

"I'm so sorry sir, we'll get you a voucher." Like hell we will. "Jesus, Emma, I've already warned you twice." Yeah, cause this thing is a pile of shit.

"It's embarrassing, Nora! I mean, god, maybe Zoey's okay with the whole singing thing cause she majored in theatre."

"I think it's a really fun idea, Nora." Oh. My. God. Fuck. Off.

"Why aren't you working?"

"Oh, I'm on vocal rest."

"What?"

"I'm on vocal re-" Hahahahahahahahaha. "Godammit Emma, now I have to go make a tea with honey, okay! Oh my god!"

"Look, can't Zoey just do the singing? I don't like it." She'll never bite but it's worth a try.

"Huh, okay, then you must not like having a job here then, hm?" Crap. "You know what? Just don't even bother showing up for your next shift." Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

"What? Are you serious? Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! I'll do the singing." Ugh.

"Yeah, you will. Now, move your ass. You got a line." I've only got a line cause you held me up dickwad. I turned around and it was that guy again. He's in here basically every day. I can't decide whether that's a good thing or not. I mean, to be fair, there is a wide range of people who are in here every day for work. It's just, this particular customer seemed to be more memorable. I still haven't figured out why. He smiled awkwardly at me. He obviously had heard the whole thing. Great.


	6. The First (Proper) Conversation

*3rd person Paul POV*

Once again, it was time for coffee. As he entered his beloved coffee shop and approached the counter, he could see Emma talking to another of the workers. She looked pretty annoyed. As he got closer, what he heard only confirmed that. It seemed to be something to do with the singing. That was a new thing that had been happening lately. He didn't usually stay long, though, so he had only experienced it a couple of times. From just that he could tell why Emma hated it.

"Don't even bother turning up for your next shift." Wait, what?

"I'll do the singing."

'Oh thank god', Paul thought.

"Move your ass, you got a line." Well, that would presumably be the boss. The one that brought the singing. Paul immediately decided that he didn't like her. After that, Emma turned around. Paul smiled awkwardly at her. She did the same back.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I got an easy one for you. Just a cup of black coffee." She said nothing, but proceeded to make a cup of coffee. To be nice, Paul decided to tip her, completely unbeknownst to what started the argument between her and her boss.

"Jesus, really?!" What is happening? What is this? "#I've been brewing up your coffee!#"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no! Uh, I'm sorry. No, I don't need you to sing. I just tipped because, you know, people should tip."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I mean, cause if I have to sing for it, it's not really a tip, right? It's just like I have another shitty paying job on top of my already shitty paying job! 'Cause, I mean, most of my tips are less than a buck?" Wow. Paul didn't expect it to be that low. People really suck. "So after the split, I'm making, like, not even 25 cents a song. That is less than a fucking jukebox!" And she had to split it with other people too! No wonder she never looked very happy at her job. "Only a jukebox doesn't also have to make coffee for these assholes." Thanks. "Uh, not that you're an asshole." Oh, thanks. "Well, maybe you are." Great. "What'd you tip? Five bucks! You meant this just for me, right? Like, I don't have to split this with anyone?"

"Oh, no, that's for you, I don't give a shit about them." Emma laughed at him. This made him happy.

"That's very sweet. God, I'm so sick of Nora and *Zoey* who is technically my manager, even though she is ten years younger than me. Ugh. She hired all of her little theatre friends and they will not #shut the fuck up# about some shitty production of Godspell they did last summer."

"Oh, that was the one at the rec centre, right? I think I had to see that." Forced. Again.

"Oh."

"I did not like it." That damn musical was so bad!

"Yeah! It sucked, right?" Damn straight.

"Yeah, yeah, they shouldn't call it 'Godspell.' More like 'God-awful.'" That was terrible.

"Yeah. Or, like, 'God-damn-that-was-bad.'"

"Yeah!" Paul laughed. "I don't like musicals." Emma nodded. Paul didn't know if that was a good thing or not. He hoped it was the former. "Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable."

"Oh. Well, then why did you come to the singing coffee shop? You know, there's a Starbucks across the street." Ah, shit.

"Oh, uh, well, you know, some things are worth it." Shit. That was not the best thing to say. Especially since she looked at me weirdly. "Like, damn good coffee." Paul took a sip to emphasise his point. The coffee was so bad. They thumbs-upped each other, both knowing he was talking bullshit.

"I see you in here all the time, don't I? What's your name?"

"Paul."

"Hi, Paul. I'm Emma." Of course, Paul knew this already. He also knew by this point that Emma had no idea who he was and clearly didn't remember him from those two encounters in high school.

"Excuse me!" Who the fuck was this? Emma looked annoyed at him while Paul just looked confused. "I have been waiting a very long while!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Ok, uh, bye Emma." Emma completely ignored him. Paul left the shop. "Oh, shoot, I forgot Bill's caramel frappe. Eh, fuck Bill." Paul just hoped Bill wasn't listening when he said he'd get him something.


	7. A Cup Of Roasted Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gone through and edited cause I have finally realised how to so italics on here cause I'm an idiot so there you go.

After seeing this really weird object in the sky, and getting ambushed by some strange sort of dance mob, Paul decided that the best place to go would be Beanie's to see Emma. This thing seemed dangerous and so he had to warn her. He had also had a highly concerning run in with his boss, Mr Davidson, who never seemed to really care about much, but always had a slight sarcastic undertone, he knew this was bad because his boss was suddenly sharing so much that no one really wanted to know, when Paul had previously known very little about him and he would have liked to have kept it that way, thank you very much. After the traumatic ordeal, he knew nothing good would come from any form of singing or dancing, which was great for Emma since she worked in the singing coffee shop. Paul just hoped she wasn't already affected. He also needed coffee cause he wasn't sure if he was dreaming the whole thing up or not. Just a nice cup of black coffee. Nothing in it. No cream, no sugar, just black coffee.

\----------------------------

"HELLO! HELLO! PLEASE GOD I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE!

_Black coffee, I'm your coffee girl._

"NOOOO! NO!" Emma looked at him weirdly. "Not you too, Emma, please god stop singing!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop." Emma suddenly looked at him with recognition. "Oh, I didn't forget. You're the guy who doesn't like musicals. Paul, right?"

"Emma. You're talking to me, like a normal person." Thank the lord.

"Uh, yeah, and if my boss catches me, I'll get canned. Uh, new company policy, not only do we have to sing when people tip, but when they enter, when they order, all the time apparently!" Oh no! They must have been infected too!

"Emma, I think there's something terribly wrong with the world today."

"Yeah, fucking tell me about it." Oh, so she knows too. Well that's good. Ish. "I spent the entire morning learning some dumb ass new tip song. I'm exhausted." Paul knew she wasn't getting it so he grabbed her hands and dragged her over to a different part of the shop.

"Emma. Emma. Emma. I feel like there's something ... sinister infecting Hatchetfield, and I know this is gonna sound crazy, and not very scary, but it is scary if you think about the implications. Promise me you'll think about the implications?"

"Okay. Okay. I promise."

"Okay, Emma, I think the world is becoming ... a musical." Any trace of Emma believing what he was saying and trusting him was immediately gone from her face.

"Um, I-"

"Don't say anything. Let it sink in."

"Okay."

"Okay, now, are you frightened?"

"Uh, yeah, I think I am starting to get a little frightened..." Emma said this slowly as she backed away from Paul, trying to get free of his grip on her shoulders.

"You should be! You should be."

"Okay, I think you should just sit down and wait for me-"

"Emma! Tip!" Oh no, it's the other employees! The infected ones! On the other hand, Emma had never been so grateful in her life to do a dumb little tip dance in the middle of a dumb little coffee shop.

"Oh, thank god. Sorry Paul, I gotta do this dumbass tip song. Sorry!"

 _Get your cup of roasted coffee,_  
_Your morning cup o' joey._  
_We'll make a jammin' cup o' java,_  
_Mocha latte with the froth for you jack._  
_Frappuccino with-a freshly roasted mung beans,_  
_It's a caramel drizzle mod in a cup!_  
_With a drip, drip, drip, drip, drip,_  
_And we'll bring it right up!_  
_Hey Mr Business, how do you do?_  
_Can we get a triple for you?_  
_Decaf? What? Decaf? What?_  
_De de, de de de, de de de, de de de._  
_And we'll bring it right up!_

While the others were handing out coffee, Emma tried to sneak in a word to Paul, but she was quickly drawn back in by her annoying ass colleagues. They then did some weird dance sequence that was just a lot of kicking and waving.

 _And we'll bring it,_  
_And we'll bring it,_  
_Ri- ri- right!_  
_And we'll bring it right up!_

Emma finally thought the dreaded thing was over so she could go over to Paul and calm him down, but Zoey and Nora, for some reason, continued to dance. It was the same dance, as well, so they must have done it after they said they were done. Obviously they think they are better than her just because *Zoey* does theatre.

"What is this? There's more? Nora? Hey! Hey! You know what, alright alright alright alright stop stop stop!" Nora and Zoey stopped, but this was probably worse. They were both just stood there in the exact same position. Hands on hip, creepy smile. "What is that? A whole other A section? God! When did you learn that? You know what! When I got this job, I signed up to serve coffee and cold, shitty pastries. If I wanted to be in a musical, I'd be in a damn musical! Yeah, that's right _Zoey_. I was in Brigadoon in high school and I fucking killed it." Paul remembered their first encounter, that godforsaken play in high school. Even though he thoroughly hated musicals, he thought that Emma wasn't all that bad, especially since she hated being there as much as he did. HE also liked it because it was when he first met her, but we won't get into that right now. "But now, I'm just trying to make ends meet while i work my way through community college and I can do that just as easily down the street at Starbucks. I quit."

"You can't quit Emma."

"Yeah I sure as hell can."

"The song is so simple. We'll teach it to you. Why, everyone here will be singing it soon!"

"What are you talking about?" Emma could hear loud coughing behind her and she looked around to see every single customer now on the floor coughing violently.

"They've all had their coffee. Their apotheosis will be upon them at any moment."

"Wait, what did you do to their coffee?" Emma opened the coffee pot, and inside she found a massive lump of blue goop. "Fucking gross!"

_Getcha cup o' poison coffee._

"What is this? What is this?"

_Your toxic cup o' joey._

"What?"

 _We'll make a twisted cup o' java,_  
_Mocha latte with the goo for you jack, jack, jack, jack._  
_Hey, Mr. Business, how do ya, how do ya, how do ya do?_

At this, the customers who had previously been lying lifeless on the floor now rose and joined in with the song.

"They're singing! Why are they all singing?"

"We need to run, Emma. Don't hold back, just run!"

 _We'll make a double for you!_  
_Hey, Mr. Business, and we'll bring it right up!_


	8. Show Me Those Jazz Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gone through and edited cause I have finally realised how to so italics on here cause I'm an idiot so there you go.

As Emma and Paul were escaping the infected, his brain was going into overload. 'What is happening?' 'Why are they all singing?' 'Did the crashed meteor have anything to do with it?' 'The timing of the arrival of the meteor and all of this starting couldn't be a coincidence. Nothing of any consequence usually ever happens in Hatchetfield. Most people haven't even heard of it.' 'What is happening?!'

After an ordeal involving alleyways and dead ends, the unlikely pair finally found some trash cans to hide near. Thinking they would be safe here for a while, they stopped to rest, and to freak out.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! What the fuck was that?"

"I told you it was scarier than it sounds!"

"You were right. I didn't think about the implications! Oh my god, I didn't think about it!"

"Emma, Emma, shh, it's alright, okay?" There was then a loud banging from behind the trash cans. Paul and Emma screamed. There was suddenly a tall figure looming above them. This was it. This was their end. They were going to die.

"No! It's not alright Paul!" Wait, what? Oh, wait, Paul knew this person.

"Bill! You scared the shit out of us."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to pop out of a trash can and not scare the shit out of you?" He's got a point. There wasn't really much he could do. Though he could just not hide in a trash can.

"I don't know, give us a warning or something next time, you know?" There was then more banging from the trash cans. Paul and Emma screamed again. Another figure emerged.

"Charlotte!"

"Sorry, I tried to warn you but- " She also has a valid point.

"Oh my god! Who are these people?"

"They're my friends from work."

"What are they doing in the trash?"

"Well we had to find a place to hide. Mr. Davidson kept calling people into his office and they kept coming out singing!"

"It was the same at the bank, the butchers, and the post office."

"It's all downtown, we were just at Beanie's." There was another very loud bang. Paul and Emma screamed once more.

"You didn't invite me!" Ah, that's obviously Ted.

"Jesus, Ted!"

"Shh! Shh! Shut the fuck up Paul! Alright? If you want to stay in our hiding spot, you got to be quiet, alright. There's something going on and we don't know what it is or who we can trust so, Paul, get in the trash can. You, beat it!"

"Uhh, fuck you?"

"No, no, Emma stays with us."

"I don't know her!"

"Yea, you do! She's the ..." The only way to make Ted understand would be to use those dreaded words, which would be great, especially saying them in front of Emma. She'd probably think he was weird and/or creepy. Probably both. "She's the barista from Beanie's." Ted still looked confused. Paul braced himself. "The, you know, the latte hottay." Paul could just tell at this point that Emma was looking at him weirdly behind his back. He tried not to think about it.

"What?" Shit. She did hear. He could hear the confusion in her voice. He hoped this was a thing that was never mentioned again. Paul looked at Ted to see if he understood now. Ted just looked annoyed.

"Paul, that is not the latte hottay. That's the crabby one who won't sing when I tip her! You grabbed the wrong one!" Fuck you, Ted. "You noodle!" What? Noodle? Really? "Fuck!" Sirens sounded in the distance. Oh crap. Had the infected taken over the police force too? If they had then there was probably no hope at all. Well that's just fan-freaking-tastic.

"Oh, oh! Thank god! They're here!" Wait what? Charlotte called them here? What the fuck Charlotte? "I- I called Sam, he'll get us out of this." Unlikely but sure. "Sam, sweetheart? Sam, baby? Oh Sam, thank god you're here!" Sam emerged with two other police officers following him. "They've gone crazy! Everyone's gone crazy!" Sam shoved his hand in Charlotte's face. Paul was right all along, and it scared him. With the police force being taken over, they all clearly wanted to infect everyone. What would they do and what would happen to the world when they got off this island? Carnage, for sure.

_Ma'am I need you to take a step back,_   
_You're facing the law not the clerk at the Ga-ap._

Who even goes to Gap anymore?

_Cause we're cops, yeah we're cops,_   
_You better shape on up._

"Get away from him, Charlotte, he's one of them." Paul was grabbed and pulled away from Charlotte from one of the other police officers. Paul hoped she would be alright.

_You'd better empty out all of your pockets,_   
_But don't empty out all of your pockets._

What? That makes no sense, Paul thought, as his hand was slapped away from doing exactly what he had been told to do.

_Cause we're cops, yeah we're cops,_   
_And we make sense._

That's obvious.

 _Show me your hands,_  
Show me your jazz hands.  
_Get 'em up or you'll end up in cuffs._  
 _Show me your hands,_  
 _Show me your jazz hands._  
 _Or I might be inclined to shoot you up._

"Hey, look, my ID's in my back pocket." At this point, Paul wasn't all that surprised that Ted was the first out of them to give himself up. The three cops then grabbed Ted, Emma, and Bill and started dancing using their arms.

_You go forty in a thirty five,_   
_Check your mirror you'll find hell has arrived._   
_'Cause we're cops, yeah we're cops,_   
_We're up in your shit._

_Cathy lost her cat in a tree,_   
_Contact fire, not the HFPD._   
_'Cause we're cops, yeah we're cops,_   
_Her cat is dead._

'Wow,' Paul thought, 'that's extreme.' Then he remembered that these 'people' were probably aliens or something like that trying to take over the world, one song at a time, and all of a sudden one cat didn't seen that extreme.

_Show me your hands,_   
_Show me your jazz hands._   
_Get 'em up or you'll end up in cuffs._

At this, Sam ran off. What was he going to do. Was he going to bring back a gun, or set off a bomb? At this point, Paul knew that they had absolutely no problem doing either of those things. They did just leave a cat to die, after all. What's a few more humans?

_Show me your hands,_   
_Show me your jazz hands._   
_Or I might be inclined._

Sam had come back and to Paul's, and presumably everyone else's, surprise, all he was carrying was a megaphone. This made no sense to any of them. What was he going to do with it? Whack them over the head with it? Attract more of...his kind.?

_Step away from the vehicle,_   
_Step away from the vehicle._

As Sam talked into the megaphone in the middle of the street, which was the last thing the scared humans thought he was going to do, Cop #1 went over to Paul and Charlotte and just, sort of, bounced lightly on the spot with her arms crossed. Paul tried to mimic her. He looked like an idiot. At the same time Cop #2 went to Bill, Emma, and Paul and tried to dance. He also looked like an idiot cause it was mainly just him waving his arms around.

_Get back in the vehicle,_   
_You get back in the vehicle._   
_Slowly get out of the vehicle,_   
_Slowly get out of the vehicle._   
_Do the things I say,_   
_I'm a cop._

Sam just continued to speak the same words into the microphone, while Cop #2 just tried and failed to look aggressive while making siren sounds, not dislike what a child might do if they were imitating an emergency vehicle. Cop #1 was just throwing her hands in the air and talking over what seemed to be the leader. She also then started to just wave her arms around aimlessly

_Get those hands up,_   
_Get those hands up._   
_Put those hands down,_   
_Put those hands down._   
_Get those hands up,_   
_Get those hands up._   
_Up, down,_   
_I'm a cop!_

The three then gathered in the middle and started doing the only bit that actually looked ok and not made up on the spot.

_Nine one one, emergency call,_   
_Got a four one one at your shopping mall._   
_Better pack your heat and utility belt,_   
_Any mall rats coming in hot, they melt._

_Sarge, it's your wife on the 911._

_What the bitch want, Doug?_

_She just wants a snug._

_Grab your nine millimeter and donut bucket,_   
_Want my badge number?_   
_Put it in your mouth and suck it!_

Charlotte then, for some god forsaken reason, walked over to her probably long dead husband. By the amount she seems to still love him, even considering the situation at hand, Paul thought that she'd likely get them all killed. This was not going to go well.

"Oh, Sam, sweetheart, I'm your wife. Sam, baby, just talk to me."

"Charlotte?" What the fuck?

"Sam?" The person in question just pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. She screamed. Well, what did she think was going to happen?

_Show me your hands,_   
_Show me those jazz hands._   
_Get 'em up or they'll end up in cuffs._   
_Show me those hands,_   
_Show me those jazz hands._   
_Or I might be inclined to shoot you-_

Sam proceeded to be hit over the head with a trash can lid that Ted had picked up while he was running away from the other two cops. Paul never thought he would say this, but thank you Ted. Paul shivered. That felt wrong.

"Just get back! Just stay away! Just leave us alone!" Paul looked up to see Charlotte holding the gun towards the two remaining cops. For some widely unknown reason, they just made weird noises that sounded like a cross between an alien and a turkey as they ran away down the street and far away from the unlikely group of people. It was only then that Charlotte looked down and saw the body of her alien-husband on the road.

"Oh, my god! Oh my god! His head is open!"

"Well, I had to do something." Shut up, Ted, your time to shine is over.

"Oh, oh, oh my god! His brain fell out!"

"Well put it back then."

"I don't know how, I'm not a doctor!"

"Charlotte, look at that. That's not his brain, it's blue!"

"Well how do you know? You're not a doctor either!"

"I need to see a doctor, he needs to get to a doctor. Sam, baby."

"Listen, listen. Char- Charlotte, right?"

"I'm Charlotte."

"Yes, ok, listen. We have to get out of downtown. Okay? Downtown is fucked. The hospital is downtown. We can't go there."

"But he needs to see a doctor, he needs to see a doctor. Sam, we're going to get you to a doctor."

"Um, okay, okay ... oh! Oh okay! Okay! I know where we can go. I have this kooky reclusive biology professor, Professor Hidgens! Yes! I'm his favourite student 'cause I brought him groceries once. Anyway, he as a doctorate. That's kind of like a doctor, right? He could help your husband, probably. And, um, he's got like a lab in his house, and security. His whole house is like a panic room. He's like a, um... what do you call a guy that lives in a fortress?"

"A king!"

"No! No, he's like a ... um ... a doomsday survivalist! Yes! He thinks the world is ending, he's been preparing the last twenty years for the apocalypse."

"The apocalypse? Is that what this is? Maybe we should go to a church."

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Charlotte! We are all from different denominations, alright? We cannot split up. I am a Presbyterian, I'm not going to die in your dirty ass Methodist church, alright? I say, we got to the panic room and we beg for the King's help."

"Charlotte, I think the best thing for all of us, including Sam, would be to get to the professor."

"Yeah."

"Well, let's go now, we can take the squad car."

"Uh, help me with him." When Paul woke up that morning, what he least expected were singing and dancing mobs, but least of all, having to take a cop's dead body to a fortress owned by a strange, reclusive professor he'd never met. Fun day.

"Did you see this?"

"I don't need to see it, thank you." Why was Charlotte trying to shove dead Sam's blue brain in her face? Why was she cursed like this. The answers to these questions we may never know. While in the car, Emma got so annoyed and disgusted with the brain and with Charlotte's constant whimpering that she found a plastic bag that probably shouldn't have been on the floor of the car in the first place, took the brain from Charlotte shoved it in the bag and threw it in the back with the body it came with. You can always pride Emma on being the most compassionate of people.


	9. Henry Hidgens

As the troop wearily approached, Paul could tell that the others, bar Emma who had been here before, were looking up at the house, no, wait, the mansion in awe. He knew this because that's exactly what he was doing. At first it looked like your everyday, run-of-the-mill massive house in the middle of nowhere, but, with a second glance, you could see the subtle differences. Barbed wire lining the fences, security cameras every few feet-

Paul’s perusing of the fortress, for lack of a better word, was interrupted by a loud buzzing. He looked around to see Emma, standing at the gates, speaking into a, well, speaker.

“Who is it?”

A sharp, frantic voice emerged from the speaker. He could only assume it was this Hidgens person.

“Professor Hidgens!”

“Don’t lie to me, whoever you are. I’m Professor Hidgens!”

At this point, Paul couldn’t tell whether this guy was joking, or if he was serious. From what he could tell so far, he assumed the latter. This didn’t bode well with the already worried man.

“No, Professor, it’s me, Emma Perkins? The whole town has gone crazy, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Emma! You’ve come to the right place! Hold on, I’ll let you in.”

With a buzz, the gates started to open. The rarity of their use was evident as they inched open when a loud creaking emerged from its hinges.

The equally as frantic team of co-workers and friends quickly hurried through the gates and inside the house.

The inside of the house didn’t feel nearly as big as was expected, although it still wasn’t that easy to find you way around. This wasn’t the best thing when you had to lug around a 150 pound man behind you.

After a few minutes of searching, they finally came across the professor standing alone in one of his many rooms. Emma quickly ran over to him and started thanking him profusely.

At the loud bang of ... Sam? being dropped on the floor, Emma turned around, still talking to her professor.

“These are my friends, this is Paul and … them. We came from downtown. Now, listen, this is going to sound crazy, but everyone-“

“Singing! And dancing? Like a musical? They want you to join them, once they get you, you’re a part of it!”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“I theorised this exact scenario thirty years ago!”

The confusion was clear on everyone’s faces. Well, at least everyone who was listening. Charlotte was still fussing over her probably dead husband on the floor.

“Really?”

“Really!”

“Like, exactly this?”

“Exactly!”

“That the world would become a musical?”

“You’d better believe it!”

“Wait. So that’s what’s wrong with Sam?”

At this, Hidgens turned, and his face of extreme gloating morphed into one of rage and fury.

“Good God! Don’t tell me you brought one of them here!”

Everyone started screaming as he brandished a gun and aimed it at Sam’s head.

“Told you we should have left him in the alley!” Shut up, Ted.

“You’re a monster, Ted!” Exactly.

“No! He’s a monster!” Can’t argue with him there.

“Alright, everybody calm down!”

Says the one waving a gun around.

“Providence has brought him to me. Quickly! Cuff him to the chair. Make sure he’s secure. There’s no telling what would happen if he were awake and loose. I’ve been preparing for this day for decades. Now, all of the answers are right in front of me! If only I had the wits to decipher them. Alright.”

With that, Hidgens approached the unconscious “man” and started to prod and poke at the blue brain. With a squelch, he extracted a pile of blue goop from inside Sam’s brain. Everyone looked disgusted.

“Now, tell me Emma, what on Earth does that look like to you?”

“Oh, God, um, I don’t know, some kind of blue … shit?”

“Exactly, Emma! What the fuck is this shit? I’ll tell you what on Earth it looks like! Nothing. You all remember that meteor that crashed into the Starlight Theatre last night? I dare say it carried a deadly cargo. A contagious pathogen of cosmic origin.”

“Wait a second, doc. Don’t tell me you’re talking about … aliens?”

“Why is that so hard to believe? Think of all that we take for granted now that was once foretold in the pages of Bradbury and Azimuth. Look no further than my robot assistant, Alexa. Once confined to the realm of science fiction, she is now science fact! Alexa! Dim the lights.

“Extraordinary! Twenty years ago, I would have had to walk all the way to the dimmer!”

Just to emphasise his point, he walked over to the dimmer switch to brighten the room once more.

“Now, as unbelievable as his or the outbreak may seem, the question is no longer can this be happening, but how do we stop it? I’ve got to get this blue shit beneath a microscope to find out what makes these bastards tick!”

By this point, everyone had just accepted the fact that when Henry Hidgens talks, you should expect a long, overly dramatic speech, filled to the brim with what seemed like, and what everyone hoped were, unrealistic, crazy theories.

“Sorry, professor? This is a lot to take in. Do you have anything to take the edge off, like, drink, or something?”

“Young man, for the past twenty seven years I have been stockpiling the bare essentials needed for human survival in the events of a world ending cataclysm. You bet your ass we got booze. Come with me.”

Hidgens slung his arm around Paul’s shoulders, and they strode off together in search of alcohol. Emma decided it would be in her best interests to follow them and also get drunk. Bill just didn’t want to be left alone with Ted who would probably just insult him.


	10. All Your Cells Will Renew And Be Enhanced

Paul and the others, led by Hidgens, entered a room deep into the house. Upon arrival, the professor retracted his arm from around Paul’s shoulders and gestured proudly around the room.

“This, my boy, is a full bar. Help yourselves.”

With that he stalked off, presumably to study the blue … shit. Ted, immediately went behind the bar, grabbed a full bottle of whiskey, and situated himself lazily across some chairs left in the middle of the room.

“He said this was a full bar! How the hell am I supposed to make a Shirley Temple without any cherries?”

“Jesus Christ, Bill! It’s the end of the world and you’re going to get your drink on with a Shirley fucking Temple?”

“Well, if it’s as serious as that, I figured we might need a designated driver.”

“Ok, so, when the cops pull you over, you can pass their breathalyser test before they infect you with their nasty blue shit? Come on!”

“If you make one more crack at me, I am gonna … do something to you!” Wow. Great threat Bill. He really isn’t very well versed in the act of intimidation.

“Oh, yeah Bill? What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna … kick your … head!”

“Oh. My head.”

“Yeah!”

“Not my ass?”

“… Yeah!”

“Alright then, let’s see it, huh! Kick my head! Come on, karate champ. I want to see you kick above your waist. Alright, show me that roundhouse. Show me that sweeping crane kick that your kung-fu master taught you.”

“Okay, you two, calm down. Ted, Bill’s not gonna kick your head.”

“Why not? It’s the most vulnerable part of the body. That’s what Sensei Bill taught me.”

“Okay, it was a dumb threat. Stop rubbing it in.” To himself, Paul sounded like their mother. Trying to calm two men down who were behaving like children.  “I’m sure if you could do it over again, he’d say ass.”

“Uh-uh, uh-uh.” This really didn’t help Ted’s case. You could quote a child with having said the exact same thing. “You know, if you want to kill a snake, what do you do? Huh? You cut off its head. Where does the fish rot from? The head! Take out the head, and the whole thing goes down!” This information could be used later to help us. Eh. It’s unlikely. “That’s why a fisherman always goes for … the head!”

Ted swung his hand at Bill, who retaliated by _lightly_ hitting his hand.

“Ow! Come on, Bill, come on!” *cough* child *cough*

“Give me that. This is supposed to relax us, not make us want to kill each other.”

“Whatever.”

At that not at all lame comeback, things seemed to settle down, and so Paul went over to Emma who was sat cross-legged on the floor, literally right in front of a chair, but ok.

“Ugh. Why did I come back here?”

“To, uh, drink?” Emma laughed at Paul’s naïveté.

“Back to Hatchetfield. I spent the first eighteen years of my life trying to get out of this place. Should’ve just stayed in Guatemala. I mean, yeah, they’ve got volcanoes and Coatimundis everywhere, but uh-“

“What’s a Coatimundi?”

“Oh, it’s like a little raccoon thing. Eh, they get into shit, people hate ‘em, but at least they don’t sing and dance!”

“So, is that what drove you to Hatchetfield? Coatimundis, up in your shit?”

“No, no, it was, uh, my sister, Jane. She was the good one. Yeah. She had this, um, Lisa Frank binder when she was little where she mapped out her entire life and I swear to god she stuck to it. Bullet point by bullet point. It was like, job, husband, house, kids. And, you know, when one sister is so on top of her game, it kind of demands that the other one be a total fuck up, right?”

“What is yin without yang?”

“That’s what I’m saying! Yeah, man, she was off doing life and I was doing, something else. Backpacking, mostly, and she would call me and, you know, invite me home for the big events, you know, weddings, baby showers, and I’d always say ‘Oh, sorry, I’ll catch the next one,’ but, um, then when I got the invitation to her funeral, I was like ‘Oh. There won’t be a next one.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you didn’t crash into her car. Anyway, uh, it’s weird growing up in someone else’s shadow because then when they’re gone the light shines on you for the first time, and it does not look good. So, there I was. Thirty, with no roots anywhere except Hatchetfield. So, I thought, uh, well I’m gonna make something of myself, you know, do something my sister would be proud of, enrol in community college, study botany. I’m gonna start a pot farm.”

That was an unexpected twist.

“Oh. Did your sister smoke a lot of pot?”

“No, but weed’s the future. It’s gonna be legal nationwide soon, bet you any money. Not that it matters anymore. Man, my whole life, my one goal was to avoid dying in Hatchetfield and here we are.”

“Hey, it could be worse. You could be dying in Clivesdale.”

“Fuck Clivesdale!”

“Fuck ‘em! You know, uh, all things considered, I like Hatchetfield. Yeah. I’ve been here my whole life. Born and bred. Never wanted to leave. Still don’t.”

“Hey, we’re the same age. How come I never knew you in high school?”

“You probably went to Hatchetfield High. I went to Sycamore.”

“Fucking Timberwolves! We hated you guys!”

“We hated ourselves! So, uh, back at Beanies you said you were in your high school production of Brigadoon?”

“Hey, I was Bonnie Jean.” No wonder Paul hated the musical. Emma isn’t that great at Scottish accents.

“That was 2003, right? I actually saw you in Brigadoon.”

“No shit!”

“Yes shit! Yeah, uh, we didn’t have a theatre program at our school so I guess to make us feel like crap they bused us over to watch your show. It was the first musical I ever saw. I hated it.”

“To be honest, I didn’t like it much either. In fact, afterwards, there was this guy I was talking to afterwards who seemed to hate it just as much as you do.”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“Oh, my god. Of course, that makes so much sense! You know, I see it now. Paul, The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, or, as I remember, not a whole lot else either.”

“Watching you in Brigadoon, that was probably the start of my whole thing, ‘cause at that point the only thing I had to base my extreme dislike off of was that one musical. You’re the reason I don’t like musicals!”

“Whoa, that’s like your origin story.”

“Yeah!”

“So, I guess I’m the villain?”

“I don’t think of you like that at all, Emma.”

“Listen, um, Paul-“

There was a sudden lightning strike, and two looming figures stood over the terrified party. As they scrambled to get away, Paul recognised one of their attackers as

“Charlotte?”

“It is time… to die.”

In the midst of all the panicing and trying to get away from the infected who used to be their friend, almost everyone had the time to thoroughly judge Infected!Sam on his “dancing”, if it could be called that.

_“Sorry to interrupt,  
but we got bones to pluck!  
The time for chaos is long past overdue.  
Death isn’t optional,  
in fact it’s optimal.  
Your time is up and now we go through you._

_We tried to convince you in soliloquy,  
but now we’ll kill you with more that harmony._

_Just die!_

_Join us and die,_   
_join us and die,_   
_join us and die._

_All you gotta do is:_   
_join us and die,_   
_join us and die,”_

“What’s wrong with them?”

_“Join us and die._

_All you gotta do is_

_Here’s how it’s gonna go,_   
_we’re gonna kick your ass,_   
_and then we’re gonna fucking kick your ass._

_We’re gonna puke all that goo,_   
_into your mouth where your food,_   
_and all your cells will renew and be enhanced.”_

“What’s wrong with her shirt?”

Emma was right. Charlotte had what seemed to be blue intestines protruding from her body, exiting her jumper through the body of the cat it was decorated with.

_“It’s a death-like process that you gotta see (Ahhhhh)_   
_your own body is your front row seat,_   
_to die!_

_Join us and die,_   
_join us and die,_   
_join us and die._

_All you gotta do is:  
join us and die,”_

“Bill! Bill! No, no! Bill, run! He has a daughter!”

_“Join us and die,  
join us and,”_

For some reason that they were all partly thankful of, the infected only had their sights set on Ted, although, as Bill was pushed to the side, Paul realised that Ted would probably die in front of them.

_“Punch him,_   
_squeeze him,_   
_crush him,_   
_kill him._

_Ride him,_   
_drag him,_   
_wind him up,_   
_kick his nuts._

_That’s how it’s gonna go-“_

In all the commotion, no one registered Professor Hidgens entering the room until a loud gunshot reverberated around them. Infected!Charlotte produced a high-pitched scream, until Hidgens shot her too. And throughout the whole thing, he was just walking around with a cigarette in his mouth like this was the most normal thing, and that he dealt with things like this on a regular basis.

“Oh, my god! Professor! You killed Charlotte!”

“Wrong!”

“You shot her!”

“I shot a charlatan!”

He surveyed the room, trying to see if anyone got the joke that he was clearly immensely proud of. It was almost as if he had planned the whole thing just for a joke. Anyway, everyone just stared blankly back at him. They had most likely gotten the joke, but were intensely judging him for his horrific timing.

“Ehhh…

“The Charlotte you knew and loved was gone the minute a note came out of her mouth. After examining that blue shit, it didn’t take long for me to decipher that Sam was no longer human, but part of the alien brew genetically reconstructed from the inside out. They’re wearing out skin to fool us, which means any one of you could be one of them!”

Hidgens raised his shotgun at the other inhabitants of the room, gesturing them all together into a group.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“So we’re gonna have a little test to see who’s still human, and who’s a musical doppelganger?”

“Uh, what?”

“I want you all to sing sixteen bars, right now!”

“No! Professor, professor, we’re not aliens-“

“Sing the beginning of Moana!”

“What! Uh?”

“I said sing, god damn it!”

 _“Moana, make way, make way,_  
consider the coconut – ho ho -  
uh, consider its tree  
uh, god gives – ho ho – us what we,  
and no one leaves!”

 _“_ I didn’t like that movie.”

_“It’s the circle of life!”_

“That’s not it.”

For a person who claims to hate musicals with a passion, it certainly seemed like he was leading the group in the massacre of Moana.

“All right, that was terrible. Not a single one of you was on pitch.”

Hidgens seemed to be physically hurt when he said this.

“Which means you’re still human. These, things, their, their tactic is to hide amongst us and as their numbers grow, they become more bold, and, as we’ve seen, *cocks gun* violent.”

As Hidgens trailed off, something else filled the silence. It was Bill’s phone, announcing a call from his daughter, Alice. He dug around frantically, before finding it, and raising it to his face.

“Alice?

“Alice, oh, thank god. I’ve never been more happy in my life your mother left me and moved you to Clivesdale.

“What? No, no, Alice, I saw you get on the bus to Clivesdale this morning.

“What? You got off? Got off?

“To go see Deb? God damn it Alice! If Deb jumped off a bridge, would you?

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re scared.

“What’s wrong with Deb?

“She’s doing what?

“Alice, okay. Listen to me. You get away from her, you understand? You get far away.

“No, this has nothing to do with me not liking Deb. Right now, you need to run and hide. Okay? Where are you?

“No, no, you stay there. I’m coming to you.

“No, no, don’t- don’t you say…

“Everything’s going to be fine.

“I love you too.”

Bill hung up his phone, and looked around the room, determined.

“Give me, give me, some bread, and some water. I knew we were going to need a designated driver!”

“What’s happening Bill?”

“It’s Alice. She’s stuck in Hatchetfield. Dang it! I need to take the car. She’s in Hatchetfield High. She’s locked herself in the choir room.”

“And you’re gonna save her?” Now is really not the time, Ted. “GI Bill? You’re gonna run and gun your way through a city of singing zombie motherfuckers. Wake up Bill! She’s already dead.”

“Don’t you dare Ted!”

“You’re gonna get there, and she’s gonna be dead, and you’re gonna die too, and that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if you try to go back through downtown.”

“But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t go through downtown. Cut through Pinebrook.”

“What?”

“Pinebrook? Rich neighbourhood, fancy houses, huge yards.”

“Yes, avoid densely populated areas.”

“Take Evergreen, cut through the park, hop a curb, and you’re in the teachers’ parking lot.”

“Right! Yes, and the window to the staff lounge is always open so they can smoke. Just slide in and out, used to be my old escape route.”

“Okay, okay. This is a lot of directions.”

“Don’t bother, he’s gonna get lost.” Shut up, Ted.

“You are such a fucking creep. You know that?”

“Oh, I’m a fucking creep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a fucking creep? Listen, sweetheart. The world has changed, alright? There are no creeps. There are no heroes. There are only people who are alive, and people who are fucking dead! And Bill’s daughter, she’s dead. What? I’m only saying what we know is true! Right, Paul?”

“I know, that the chances are slim to nil, and I know that Bill doesn’t know the shortcut. Bill, if you go, you’re not gonna make it. Which is why I’m gonna go with you to get your daughter back.”

“You’d do that for me Paul?”

“Hey, it’s not like you’re asking me to go see Mamma Mia.”

“Well, hey, let’s go. If we haul ass, we can be there and back in twenty minutes.”

“No, Emma, you stay here. I have a theory on how these aliens can be stopped, but I’ll need an extra pair of hands in the lab. Paul. Bill. Godspeed.”

“Um, hey, Paul? Listen, if those things get you, they’re gonna make you sing, and dance, and all that shit you hate. So don’t you let ‘em.”

“Emma, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I. Will never be in a fucking musical.”

With that, he stalked off to catch up to Bill, on their rescue mission to save his daughter.

In his head, he looked like a boss. To everyone else, not so much. But they would never tell him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, this is the longest chapter I have ever written. It's only like 2000 words but I don't care. I genuinely think it is longer than the first few chapters combined.


	11. Everything Is Going Swimmingly

The singing was becoming louder and louder as Paul caught up with Bill at the car. He was already in the car and strapped in, rifle between his legs, hands clenched, fingers tapping anxiously on the wheel. As soon as Paul was properly seated and safe in the passenger seat (even in the face of danger, Bill wasn’t a maniac), he started the car and drove at exactly the speed limit towards Pinebrook.

“Bill? It’s basically the end of the world, you can go over the speed limit if you want.”

“No! How am I supposed to save my only daughter if I’m wrapped around a tree?”

“How are you supposed to save your only daughter if you’ve been converted into a singing monster all cause you had to stick to the rules, even when no one cares?”

Bill’s face looked pained, before he pressed his foot down further and started to increase his speed. It wasn’t as fast as Paul would have liked, but it was better than 30mph.

\------------------

After a few close calls and a lot of Bill driving faster than he would have liked cause they were being chased by the mindless infected, the totally not scared at all duo arrived at Hatchetfield High, the place of Paul’s childhood nightmares.

“Alice? Alice? Sweetie, where are you?”

“Bill! Be quiet! Be quiet Bill, okay?”

“We gotta find her Paul!”

“We will but, but you’re gonna have to shut up, alright? This whole school could be crawling with those things.” Mindless beings walking round a school, sucking the life out of unsuspecting others. Doesn’t sound that different from a normal day at high school. “You screaming is gonna get us killed, and then who’s gonna save Alice? Just like in the car, remember?”

“Right, right, sorry Paul. It’s just, she’s all I have.”

“I know. Just … just try to stay calm and follow me, okay?”

“You know, she’s a good kid, Paul. She’s smart and, I respect her choices, but … if we’re being honest, I don’t like Deb.”

Not the time, but if it helps him to calm down, Paul would have to deal with it.

“She’s just … she’s always on her phone, and, I don’t know. I just thing Alice can do better.”

“Yeah, sure Bill.”

“This morning, the knucklehead that I am, I said, ‘Why don’t you try dating someone at your own high school, in Clivesdale?’ and she said, ‘You just don’t like Deb.’ and what was I supposed to do? Lie? So I said, ‘Why don’t you try dating someone like Grace Chastity?’ and she goes, ‘No! Grace Chastity is a nerdy prude’ and I said ‘1. I said date someone like her, 2. That is not a very nice thing to say!’ and suddenly I’m defending Grace Chastity of all people, and she says, “You just want Grace Chastity to be your daughter!’ and I said, ‘Well at least she’s nice to me at church!’ And I think that fight is why she got off the bus to go see Deb. Oh god, Paul, I’m the reason they trapped her. It’s my fault.”

“No! No, listen to be Bill, okay? This is not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.” 

Oh, crap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compared to the last one, it's quite short (around 2000 words shorter) but it's something.


	12. Not Your Seed

“Alice?”

“‘It’s all your fault.’ That’s the last thought I had before they broke down the door.

“ _I’m not your girl anymore,  
I’m not that tween that you drove here for.  
I’m not your girl anymore,  
I over took her body with an infectious spore._

_You left me out of your sight for one second and look what happens,  
Nightmare time.  
It’s worse than you could imagine not sex and not drugs,  
Just alien invading minds._

_No more family vacays together,  
Cause your only daughter’s under the weather.  
And if you actually paid attention to me,  
You’d see I’m not your seed,”_

“Alice, what is going on?”

“ _I’m not your angsty teen,_ ”

“Alice, I’m- I’m here to take you home.”

“ _No matter what you believe,  
The apple’s fallen far from the tree._

_It’s not my fault anymore,  
No more curfews to be late for.  
It’s not my fault anymore,  
No more being worried and waiting by the door._

_Did you know that I wanted to live with you?_

_When you needed to fight you gave her that too._

_Did you know Mom let Deb sleepover?_ ”

“What?”

“ _And you’re right about Deb,  
She’s a hard core stoner._”

“I knew it!”

“ _And if you wonder what led your daughter astray,  
Well daddy wasn’t here to stay.  
Not your seed,_”

“Alice, whatever I said before, I’m sorry-“

“ _I’m not your perfect teen,_ ”

“You can break out of it, I know you can.”

“ _I’m fucking seventeen,  
At least I was before you left me._”

“Bill, we need to leave, right now-“

“Back off, Paul. We’re not leaving without Alice.”

“That’s not your daughter, Bill.”

“Alice?”

“ _Why does it hurt to love you?  
Why am I in pain?  
Why does it hurt to know you?  
You let me down again.  
If I turned my insides out would you even know that I was there?  
Why does it hurt to love you?  
Why does it hurt to love?_

_I’m not your seed.  
Now maybe you’ll listen to me.  
How do you let me bleed?  
Now your daughter’s not a girl no more.  
Not at all your seed._

_Cause I’m not your girl anymore._ ”

 

“I can’t do it, Paul. I can’t live in a world without my daughter.”

“Bill, whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

“I can’t live knowing I’m the reason they got to her.”

Bill slowly raised the shotgun up until it was positioned just underneath his chin. Paul dashed forward and wrestled it out of his hands.

“Let me do it, Paul! Just let me die!”

“No man. No!”

And with that, Paul threw the shotgun onto the ground behind him, making sure that Bill was far away from it. He would not lose yet another one of his friends today.

“Bill, look at me. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna let you die.”

Paul was cut off by the sound of a gunshot, and he looked on in horror as, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he watched someone he knew collapse limply on the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Bill! Oh, God! Bill!”

“We just keep running into each other, don’t we Paul? We have travelled across seas of stars, conquering (counting). Conquering (bending). Wait. What are we saying? We all have to say the same thing. Let’s get on the same page.

“I’m here (I’m here) [I’m here]

“Bending countless civilizations to our will. Yet you, Paul, have defied us thrice.”

Not-Alice fired a shot from the gun at Paul, which he narrowly missed as he darted out of the way. Also, they were aliens from another world who had just picked up a shotgun for the first time (presumably), so it actually wasn’t that bad.

“This puny human weapon is too quick a death for you, Paul. We shall rend you limb from limb. You will die (choke). You will choke (die). Seriously, we all need to say the same thing. You guys are embarrassing me!”

“Oh, come on!”

Paul ran to the ‘punt human weapon’ which the aliens had so carelessly discarded in front of them on the ground.

“You shall choke on your agony as you beg for apotheosis.”

The trio of infected began a high-pitched torturing as Paul crouched on the ground, begging for it to stop.

“Get down on the ground! We’re the army!”

What Paul hoped really was the army came storming into the room, guns a-blazing. They chased the aliens out of the room with a series of shots and grenades. Then, who Paul presumed was the leader turned to him.

“Wait, wait, wait, I’m not one of them. I’m human-“

“Yeah, prove it asshole. We’re the army.”

And with that, the first guy brought the butt of his gun down on Paul’s face, and with a thud, he was knocked out cold on the ground.


End file.
